


Slave Training

by Azamir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, Consent Issues, Enemas, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Slavery, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azamir/pseuds/Azamir
Summary: An Auror raid gone wrong turns Harry's life upside down. To repay the death caused, he has to become the victim's family's slave. Draco Malfoy reads international newspapers – and is a professional slave trainer. And Harry Potter will be the perfect object to train...





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for a fic fest over at LJ - though I desperately can't remember for which community. must have been around 2010 or 2011. The original prompt was from the LJ user kayoko: "# 93: Draco's job is to breakdown Harry Potter and rebuild him into a pleasure slave using any means necessary. "
> 
> I'm sorry if the story seems a little cut off, but at the time I ran out of time to finish it, and didn't really find the time ever since. There was one more scene planned, but this was the finishing point I could live with.

It was an international incident. The wizarding nightclub that the Aurors raided that night in search of illegal potions was packed full of young people. There were many wizarding tourists, the International Potions Fair had started just two days previous and many a visitor of the fair had decided to enjoy London's wizarding nightlife now that they were here. 

Then something went wrong. Someone shot that first dark spell, and people started to panic. The Aurors tried to keep control, but the situation went quickly out of hand. When someone shouted "Imperio!", chaos was complete. Someone had used an unforgivable, in front of a squadron of Aurors. everyone was a suspect, and the Aurors would make sure everyone who was in the club would be in a holding cell until interrogated. 

Harry Potter was not even in the deepest of it, but when one of the young men in the group he was keeping watch of took out his wand, he had to interfere. Expelliarmus was deflected by the obviously skilled wizard. But before Harry could put the young man in a body-bind or something similar, he was attacked with the blood whip. This was dark magic, forbidden from use in Britain, though not quite yet on the scale of the unforgivables. He reacted from long training, and it was incredibly bad luck that the blasting curse took the young man by the neck. He was dead in an instant. 

He had been the son of the second most influental family in the Indian Ministry of Magic. He had been the apple of his fathers eye, a promising wizard, singled out to maybe once become Minister of Magic in India. 

And his family wanted revenge.

~~~

Draco flipped open his newspaper. It was the German equivalent to the Daily Prophet, though it was a lot less sensationalistic. It was called "Zauberzeiten", which translated to "Magical Times", and he had grown used to the rather dry tone of many of the articles - the German public wanted news in their newspapers, not rumours or gossip. 

The headline on the first page was rather interesting, though, for once.   
"Aurorenzugriff in Londoner Club - Ein Toter, Dutzende verletzt!" (Auror raid in London club - one dead, dozens injured!)

The headline summed it up pretty well, but what Draco read underneath it was even more interesting. The completely overcrowded club had been stormed by Aurors who had had a lead on some potions smuggler who had come because of the Potions Fair and who would try to sell his products to all and sundry in the London club scene. Someone had cast an unforgivable, and some young tourist had panicked and attacked one of the Aurors. The Auror had retaliated, and in doing so killed the foreign wizard.

The most spicy part about that wasn't even that someone was dead. The real big news was that the young wizard was a member of a prominent Indian family - and the Auror who had killed him was Harry Potter.

Draco took a sip of his coffee to wash these news down. That would be a hard blow for the british ministry, to have their poster boy in the papers because of a dead person in a raid. And even worse, the boy had been foreign, so this would become an international incident. 

But in the end, it was of little consequence to Draco, who had left Britain as soon as the Auors had let him go, after the war. He had enrolled in the rather small German wizarding school (Durmstrang would have been suicide!) and finished his education there. He had thought about going back to Britain then, but in the end, he didn't want to return to the places where he and his family had been degraded by Voldemort. He could barely stand to be in the Manor on the few holiday visits, he wouldn't want to live there ever again.

So he had made a living in Germany. And what a living it was, for sure!

He turned to the next page of the newspaper. Besides the international incident in Britain, most of it was dominated by economical news. The Muggle crisis was - as was to be expected sooner or later - having an adverse effect on the wizarding economy as well. But this was not something that worried Draco overly much, his job would not be affected much even if the wizarding economy did take a downturn. He was too good at what he did, and there was little competition in the field anyhow. 

He lay away his newspaper and took the last sip from his coffee. Time to start working - qualities like his own needed to be honed, he needed to stay sharp in order to stay on top of the business, and mistakes in his profession could turn out just as fatal as the mistake Potter had made on this raid.

Because Draco Malfoy was one of the most renown wizarding slave trainers, and nobody wanted their goods damaged by someone else. 

~~~

His first trip of the day was across the hall of his rather spacious house on the outskirts of Berlin. Nothing comparable to the size of the Manor, but then, who really needed a Manor - nobody could really use as many rooms, and the constant chatter and bowing and scraping of that army of house-elves was rather tiresome as well. Draco liked his spacious but still normal-sized house, and since he never took on more than three jobs at once, he didn't need more rooms. 

The first room he entered was currently occupied by a young woman from Norway, she had been given to him for training from her Master four weeks ago, she was supposed to learn the proper ways of obedience as her Master's pet. He wanted her to be his Kitty, and she always tended to go for a dog approach. 

An easy job, since the girl was in this arrangement completely willing, and with a great understanding of her position. It was not always so – if someone submitted to a slave-ritual without full understanding of the consequences, they had signed away their freedom without a way back – and often came to regret it once they understood that there really was NO way back. Especially Muglleborns – Draco actually called them that in his mind, no need to be especially degrading when being raised by Muggles was punishment enough, indeed! - tended to fall into that kind of trap, and started rebelling against their fate. But once the slave ritual was done, you WERE a slave. There were no known means of taking back the magic, and wizarding law all over the world took this into account. You became your master's property. You still had some human rights, at least in most places, but ultimately, your master had full control of your life, that was the magic of the slave ritual.

Draco always preferred to work with people who entered slavery willing and knowing, because the necessary means of controlling someone through the ritual's magic were so entirely without finesse. Pushing a willing slave beyond the point they thought they could take was so much more interesting. Breaking stupid people's wills was not what Draco lived for, though he had done jobs like that in the past. His training was supposed to be art – and with subjects such as Galea, the kitten from Norway, it could be art.

So he stroked her back and tail until she woke – to see if she finally managed to be the graceful cat her master wanted her to be.

~~~ 

Harry sat in his big armchair and stared at the fireplace on the other side of the living room. He still wore his Auror uniform, though it was crumpled, sooty from the floo ride and stank of two days of sweat.

Finally, after more than 35 hours since he had gone out to work before that damn raid, he was home again. He felt dead tired, but not sleepy, in his head thoughts were spinning, the guilt eating at his conscience, though he knew he had reacted in a way that was still acceptable. The young man had used dark magic, and resisted an Auror. And his dead had even been an accident, but still. 

And the whole thing was far from over, by morning, they had had the first official letter from the Indian Ministry, demanding an explanation and threatening repercussions for the “mean attack on an unblemished Indian citizen”. Harry had spent the rest of the day being interrogated by his colleagues and superiors, who all felt very awkward in the situation of having to do this to a fellow Auror, who was Harry Potter, to make it even worse.

After checking and re-checking every single answer, they had finally let him go home. It was obvious that he wouldn't flee before this was solved, so there had been no need to keep him in the ministry any longer.

They had told him to go sleep, but he couldn't. The moment when he fired the spell, the way the young man flew through the air, the way he came to rest on the floor with open eyes and his neck in a completely wrong angle, it played before Harry's eyes whenever he closed them.

The next week would show it the Indian family would accept the Ministry's explanation, or if they would demand more. The tone of the letter that had arrived in the morning was not promising, Harry had heard when he was passing international liaisions on his way to the floo. The Indians still had a grudge against Britain because of some things that had happened during the uprisings in the 1940ties. While most european wizards had been too concerned with Grindelwald, some members of the British Minstry who had been stationed in colonised India had been part of atrocities against those Indian wizards who supported the independency movement. After the indepence was won, those wizards had fled back to Britain, and been sheltered by the Ministry, that didn't want any more scandals after the uncovering of so many of Grindelwal'ds supporters in the ranks of the ministry. 

The relationship with India had been strained for decades ever since. I was a smoldering conflict, too often ignored by the British Minstry, that was caught up in domestic troubles. And now Harry had killed the son of an important Indian family. 

It was chaos. 

Harry stood up and went to his potions cabinet. He took out that vial of dreamless sleep he kept for emergencies, and went to his bedroom. He undressed, lay down and drowned the bottle. He was asleep in moments. 

~~~ 

Draco opened the paper that morning to a new and mind-boggling headline. 

“Fakran family wants slave exchange for murdered son”

Again, the headline said it all. The family of the murdered Indian man wanted to invoke the ancient slave exchange tradition as reparation for the murdered son. In the more recent past, ever since slavery had been considered immoral amongst wizards, this had been done very seldom, but it was still considered a viable way to redeem a murder. The slave would be taken into the family in order to fill the gap left by the dead family member. 

Still, the slave would be a slave. Magically bound to obey the family, with the head of the family able to overrule other family members' orders. Very similar to house elves.

And the Indian family claimed Potter for their slave. 

The question now was how far they would press this. The relationship between India and Britain had been strained for a long time, and the Fakran family probably had old hurts to soothe as well as this recent one. Still, claiming the hero of wizarding Britain was a pretty audacious step. 

He would have to follow this even more closely. Perhaps a few letters and firecalls to old friends from the Island were in order. Slaves were, after all, Draco's business. 

~~~ 

Harry sat opposite the Minister, in the Minister's bureau. They were alone, and the Minister had ordered his assistant to keep it that way. 

“Mr. Potter, you already know that this situation has become more than serious. I know that you have pleaded self-defense and that your pensieve memories and testimony to this fact are reliable. Unfortunately, the Fakran family won't hear any of it.”

The Minister took a sip from the glass of water on his table. Harry hadn't touched his glass since he entered the room. 

After clearing his throat, the Minister continued.

“They accuse our interrogators as biased and insinuate corruption in the Wizengamot. They say any prrof of self-defense must be faked. Our negotiator was sent home packing, because his great-uncle thrice removed had been amongst Grindelwald's supporters. We don't have anyone in the diplomatic corps who has even less a connection to someone who lived during Grindelwald's time. We're at the end of our possibilities, and the still want you as their slave.”

The Minister looked away from Harry after finishing.

Harry forcibly unclenched his hands, and cleared his throat. 

“So, they won't talk to us, they won't listen to us and all they tell us is that they want me for their slave. What will happen if we ignore them completely?”

“The situation between India and Britain has been in tatters for several decades. Open verbal hostilities were exchanges, silent hostilities were exchanged. That the situation hasn't exploded was mainly due to the fact that it never came to dead people on one side first. This is over now, since the Indian boy is dead. I will be frank with you, Mr Potter, but this might cause a war. If we ignore tham, at least our citizens currently in India would be in grave peril, and it might just not end there.”

Harry's hands had clenched again. Again, because someone in the past had done their job half-arsed, the current people were in terrible danger. 

“So there's no way out of this. Either we – I – fulfill their slave claim or they start a war over it?”

His voice was strained with controlled rage. 

The Minister nodded gravely. “This is about it. I and everyone else wishes this to be different, Mr Potter, but as Minister of all wizarding Britain I have to put the common good above individual feelings. I cannot sned unknown numbers of citizens to their death in apossible war if there is a way to avoid it.”

A nasty, sour feeling spread from Harry's stomach outward. 

“So I'm to comply with their slave exchange?”

The Minister at least had the decency to look Harry into the eye when he said it. 

“Yes, Mr Potter. I cannot force you, as the slave ritual has to be entered willingly. But I must ask you to comply with their wishes, as an Auror who has sworn to protect the magical citizens of Britain. It is your duty as well to keep harm from your fellow witches and wizards.”

Harry looked to the side, where a magical window showed a grassy field with bright blue sky above it. 

“I've laid down my life to protect those people at seventeen. You need not remind me of that duty, Minister. I thought that helping people would cost me less than my life after having defeated Voldemort. It seems it doesn't.

I hate that this is happening. But I know my duty – and I love the wizarding world. Enough to lay down my life for it once. Still enough to lay down my freedom for it. I will surrender to them and sommit to this slave ritual. You can go and prepare your press conference or speech or whatever. Tomorrow evening you may tell everyone. Until then, I will have informed all those closest to me.”

The Minister stood up and came around his desk to Harry. Harry stood from his chair as well.

“Mr Potter, I can assure you that I and every citizen of Britain will know about and honor your sacrifice.” He took Harry's hand and gave it a solemn shake. 

Harry managed a calm expression for his answer. “Thank you, sir.” He kept the sarcastic comment of 'it will be such a great solace' to himself. 

He left the Minister's office after that. Time to tell his friends about the upcoming change in lifestyle. 

~~~ 

Draco stared at the floo address. With the special floo powder he'd bought in Berlin's wizarding quarter, he'd be able to call all the way to India. 

The preliminary inquiries had been done via owl, but now Draco needed to talk to his potential new employer face to face. 

He threw the blueish powder into the flames of his fireplace and called out “Chandimai Mansion!”. 

Moments later an elderly wizard in traditional Indian attire looked at Draco through the flames. “Mr Malfoy. I was expecting your call. What is it that you wanted to talk about personally?”

His English was flawless, and condescension dripped from every word. 

“Before I definitely take on a job, I need to set down a set of rules. First, I need complete privacy with a slave for the first month. Two, I will not tolerate any interference in my training. Three, in a case of magical binding slaveries, I need access to the slave bond and a binding vow on your side to not use the slave bond until I give you leave to do so. If I had written those demands in a letter, you probably would not have accepted them, so a direct conversation saves us both time – we needn't wait for silly letters to be carried across the globe in order to have our argument.”

Draco didn't intend to let this job go, but without those rules, the job would be fruitless, somebody in the family would sooner or later interfere, and undo much of his work. So he didn't allow any such interference, and to make his stance completely clear, he always talked about this with his employers face to face. It got much better results.

“I see. Why should I decline my lawful rights just as I aquire them, Mr Malfoy? What good would a slave be to me if I can't benefit from him?”

Draco was tempted to roll his eyes, but the situation wouldn't allow that. 

“Because if you do insist on all your rights as slave owner, I will quit the job, and you will have a slave on your hands with whom you will not be able to deal. I have lots of experience, as we have already established in our previous exchanges. I know that in the first phase of training, the slave needs to concentrate on my set of rules , and my set only. Otherwise, he will not be able to be trained properly. So either you want a well-trained slave, which means to give me the freedom to control him by any means I see fit. Or you will have a huge problem on your hands, which I assure you, Potter will be if you don't have my services. I have previous knowledge of him, and the necessary experience as a slave trainer to deal with him.”

The Patriarch answered with long moments of silence. But Draco could almost hear the thought process going on behind those bushy brows, because he had been witness to it for a few times now. Daco always won. His experience was too precious, and especially with someone known to be magically powerful like Harry Potter, the new owners often feared what could happen if they didn't keep control of their slave. The bindings of the slave bond could only be enacted by will, and if a powerful slave killed you before you could stop him, you'd be too dead to do much about it. So actually training and controlling a slave was of major importance, and they all knew it.

“I see, Mr Malfoy. You come with impeccable credentials, and have offered your superior knowledge about Potter at a very decent price. If your training methods require these rules, I will oblige you. The binding ceremony has been scheduled for next Wednesday. We will await you here from Sunday on, so you can install any necessary items on the grounds of the mansion before Potter arrives. I look forward to meeting you in person.”

With that, the old man ended the floo call. Draco wasn't shocked or disgusted by the rather impolite goodbye. He had what he really wanted: the job on his terms. 

He stepped away from the fireplace and walked down the hall. He'd need to say goodbye to his last slave before packing up the last few things he'd need in India. Most of his gear was already packed, it would be sent via an international wizarding shipping company tomorrow. 

And Harry Potter would be his to train. Only a few more days. The anticipation already was thrilling, and exhilarating. 

~~~ 

Harry stumbled out of the international floo, into a huge entrance foyer. Looked like a Palace. Huge doors led outside, they were opened and the sun shone through, a well-kept garden was to bee seen on the other side. Directly in front of the building – mansion, or palace, or whatever it was – was a stone terrace, on which a pentacle was drawn. 

A young man in tradition Indian attire stood in front of Harry. His face showed little emotion, or Harry just couldn't read it. 

The man spoke up. “Mr Potter, the ceremony has already been set up. If you would follow me?” He sounded courteous, but a bit harsh. His English was impeccable, not a trace of an accent. Harry nodded, and the man turned towards the doors.

Outside, Harry saw now, several men were gathered around the pentacle. Harry was led to the middle of the pentacle and told to stand there, while the other men gathered at the five points of the pentacle. 

Harry had been informed that his binding ritual, with which he would hand over his life as reparation for the life taken from the family, would take place immediately upon his arrival in India. He had said his last goodbyes to his friends only a few minutes ago, and this all seemed a little surreal. The meaning of all that was going on hadn't really sunk in yet.

With the wave of a wand and a chant the ritual began. First one, then all five men sung a repetitive chant while waving their wands in similar patterns, and slowly a reddish fog seemed to pour out from the pentacle's lines. Harry had no idea what he had to do in the ritual, but as nobody had given him instructions, it seemed as if his own participation was either self-explanatory or not necessary.

After several minutes, in which the fog grew ever thicker around harry and he could no longer make out the five men around him, the chanting stopped. Then one of the men said something like a command in a language Harry didn't understand. One after the other, the rest of the men repeated the command. Then there was silence.

The silence reigned to a few moments, then the fog turned from red to purple. This seemed to introduce the next stage of the ritual, as another chant was taken up by the five wizards. The fog seemed to be drawn together now, and become more solid. And it came closer to Harry, who needed to suppress a flash of claustrophobia. The, suddenly, the wall of fog turned into chains that attached themselves to Harry's hands and feet. He still stood, but now the chains kept him in place. An icy shiver traveled over his back. Slowly, his mind seemed to catch up with the fact that he really would become a slave – and never have his freedom back, never be able to choose his own actions again. 

Then a voice boomed over the chanting, as if it was far away and still entirely too close to Harry's ear.

“Do you give your life in repayment for the life taken!?”

The question was directed at Harry, even if he didn't know where it had come from – probably from the ritual itself. Harry swallowed, and then answered in a steady voice: “Yes, I do.”

“Do you swear to obey the family that you have taken from in order to repay the wrong done?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you give your magic to replace the magic ripped from the family?”

His magic, too? Would he turn into a squib? But Harry couldn't back out now. 

“Yes, I do.”

A crack of lightning, directly followed by the thunder, tore through the sky above Harry. 

“Will you obey your new masters, as the slave you have become?”, the voice boomed again.

“Yes, I do.”

With another crack of lightning, the chains around Harry's arms and legs vanished, as did any other visible sign of magic. The chanting had stopped, the men around him had stopped waving their wands and looked at Harry now. Their gazes were hard and unwelcoming, almost aggressive. 

Then the one who had already brought Harry here from the floo stepped forwards.

“Slave, come here.”

Harry obeyed. He had just said he would obey every order. So he had to. Somehow, his mind felt a little foggy. 

“Since you are new to this, and will need instruction in order to fulfill our wishes to complete satisfaction. As we do not wish to have that much work with you, we have arranged for a professional trainer.” Looking away from Harry, and towards the entrance of the Mansion, he called “Mr Malfoy, would you please come?”.

Harry thought his ears might have betrayed him, but when Draco Malfoy, in all his light blonde glory, stepped out of the Mansion, he could only gape. What the hell was Malfoy doing here? Harry hadn't seen or heard anything of Malfoy in years. Hadn't he fled Britain for the continent? What was he doing in India?

~~~ 

Draco stepped through the doors as he was called. He had followed the Binding Ritual from inside the Mansion, and had been ready when it was finished. Now he would get to meet Potter again, afte many years – and under quite different circumstances.

Potter looked completely gobsmacked as Draco walked towards him. In his hand he held a collar with an leash, but Potter obviously was too focused on Draco's appearance to pay attention to that detail. Draco stopped directly in front of Potter, deliberately invading his personal space. 

“Harry. We haven't seen each other in quite a while. Who would have thought that it would be under such circumstances...”

“Malfoy. What the hell are you doing here? Is this some weird joke, played for your amusement?”

He sounded angry, which was what Draco had expected. 

“No, Harry. I am here to train you in the ways to behave as a slave. Since you have just agreed to be made a slave, would you hand over your wand to Mr. Fakran junior? You are no longer allowed to use it.”

“I left my wand in Britain, with my friends. I knew about that part of the slavery deal.”

“Very well. Here are the other parts of the 'slavery deal'.” Draco waved his wand and with a wooshing sound, Harry's clothes had vanished and he stood there naked. 

“You will no longer wear clothing unless specifically ordered. You will crawl on hands and knees. And you will wear a collar and a leash when outside your private rooms.”

Harry was so gobsmacked by having his clothes magicked away that he didn't put up any resistance when Draco stepped up to him to affix the collar he had brought with him. Then he pulled Harry away from the gaping family members and deposited him in a temporary sleeping chamber, so he could get accustomed to his new way of life – and the attire that came with it.

~~~ 

Draco stepped into the dark room where Harry lay on the carpet, naked as he had left him the previous evening. He was still asleep, curled upon himself in an almost fetal position. 

With a flick of his wand, Draco lit the magical lights around the windowless room. Harry stirred at that, but it obviously was not enough to wake him yet. Since the time difference between India and Britain was significant, Draco didn't give this much credence, since he had no idea when Potter had actually slept the previous evening. If he still showed little signs of an inner clock a week from now, then Draco would put his mind to teaching Harry when to wake up in order to fulfil a master's wishes. 

He clapped his hands twice, which was enough to rouse Harry from his sleep in a heartbeat. His head shot up and he immediately analysed his surroundings, looking for possible threats or whatever. Probably Auror training. 

“Good morning. Training starts now. As you have already proven yesterday, you tend to defy the wishes of your master openly. So the first thing you will learn is to obey orders and to show deference to your master.”

Even though Harry was still a little hampered by sleep, a spark of defiance lit up behind his eyes at Draco's words. 

“I still don't know what you're playing at here, Malfoy, but I certainly won't be your little sex pet! So would you hand me back my clothes now and leave me to my life, even if it is as the slave of this family?”

“Wrong answer, slave.”

Draco flicked his wand, which he had slid into his hand from the folds of his sleeve. At the sign, the slave bond sprang into action and sent jolt of pain directly into Harry's nervous center. It wasn't quite as bad as Crucio, but not much better anyways. Draco didn't much like working with such crude methods as slave bond punishments, but he'd need to show Harry that he actually was the master Harry had to obey to. The slave bond was the easiest way to do so. 

Harry gave a jolt and a sharp yelp as the pain hit him. It didn't improve his temper, but that was not what Draco had had in mind with the action anyways. 

“Are you fucking crazy, Malfoy? You need to hex me with pain curses?”

“That was not a pain curse, slave. It was the punishment embedded into the slave bond, to which you have agreed of your own will yesterday. As your Master, keyed into the slave bond in that position, I can activate the punishment at will. I don't like to work that way, but if you continue to question my authority in this manner, you will encounter this kind of punishment a lot more often. I am a professional slave trainer, and have been so for several years now. I came here to train you, at the request of the family. We can go about this training several ways. The easiest for you is to simply follow my instructions. The hard way for you is to fight me every step and turn, but I can assure you, I have a lot more experience with this than you will ever have. I will win every single fight. So you have two choices. You can make it easy or hard for yourself. Hard will mean more pain, it's as simple as that. I will train you, and you will be trained, one way or another.”

Harry looked at Draco with something close to hate. It did still lack the necessary passion for true hate, but if Harry chose to fight Draco every step and turn, the passion would appear, or Harry's spirit would be utterly broken. Draco would regret that course of events, but there would be little for him to change it. But if Harry would learn to obey and delight in his position – the possibilities were endless. 

But Harry seemed to have understood the part about Draco being hired to be the trainer, at least. 

“If you are here to train me as a slave, why this whole nakedness thing? Why am I not scrubbing the floors with toothbrushes or something?”

Draco raised his eyebrows. That was what really irked Harry about the whole situation? Oh, well, he probably was a prude...

“Even if Granger is convinced that house elves want to live in the same way as humans do, nobody else is. House elf magic takes care of menial household duties far better than anything else could. Who would set humans to those tasks if he didn't have to? Slave bonds such as this have always been used to get your hands on slaves for pleasure or to get new blood into your bloodline without lowering your standards of marriage. A slave doesn't have any rights to the children he sires, and his blood status is ignored as well. Families that had trouble with too much inbreeding could get their daughters or daughters in law new partners that way. The slave is bound to the family, not one individual member, and will be used to better the family's future in every way the family sees fit.”

Well, now Harry gaped. It didn't quite suit him, the dumbstruck look. 

“Don't worry, they don't want you for reproductional services. Your slavery was primarily meant as a political sign. But now that you're here, you need to be useful nevertheless. So. Training. What will it be, obedience or fight?”

Harry looked down to the floor and didn't meet Draco's eyes, already a clear sign of his answer.

“Obediance.”

He still spat the word at Draco, and didn't add anything. Still it was Draco's first win, and maybe the most meaningful of all. 

But not time to congratulate himself for his success. 

“Well, then, Harry. I give the orders, you obey them. First, you will need to learn proper behaviour for a slave – there is no talking back, and your whole appearance needs to show your deference to your Master. Being naked while your Master is clothed is one part of this, therefor you will stay naked. Being collared and leashed is another. The third, which you will learn from this day onwards, is to move on your hands and knees. Standing at the same height as your Master is not an option, especially if the slave is naturally taller than his Master.”

Harry looked at Draco again, his eyes betraying less of what he thought than before. He seemed to have reigned in his temper, and done well at it. 

“Crawling on your hands and knees needs to be ingrained. And the easiest method to get that into a slave's mind is this.” Draco pulled the humbler from a robe pocket. 

~~~ 

Harry was shocked, though he tried to hide it, and from Malfoy's tone, he probably succeeded. Why had nobody told him that this kind of slavery made him into a... sex toy? 

It probably was considered to be common knowledge amongst the wizarding populace, that's why. They talked so little about sex, stories like this probably were swapped in wizarding holiday camps or something, places where Harry had never been, with his youth a constant battle against Voldemort. 

Malfoy was talking, but Harry barely registered what he said. He had signed away his life to be a sex toy. A deep shame settled into his bones, this was dirty, sex was supposed to be entirely mutual and not something performed as if one was a plastic doll. 

Harry's concentration returned from his inner musings as he noticed that a strained silence had established itself. Malfoy was obviously expecting some answer or reaction from Harry. 

Harry looked at Malfoy, who held a weird thing made of dark wood and leather in his hand. A wooden bar, with straps of leather going away from it. It didn't look like a dildo, but Harry couldn't decipher what it was supposed to do or even where it was supposed to go. And since he had missed Malfoy's speech, he also had not clues from that. 

He looked Malfoy in the face, and decided to ask.

“What is it supposed to do?”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows in that annoyingly arrogant fashion. 

“Keep you from standing up. You will discover for yourself how it works in detail. Come here.”

Harry obeyed. He was supposed to crawl, he understood, so he came at Malfoy on his hands and knees. The carpet chafed, but it was probably better than crawling over cold stone floors. 

As he knelt in front of Malfoy, the other man nodded and then stepped around Harry. Harry followed him, and saw that Malfoy had knelt down behind his arse, the weird contraption in hand.

“Spread your legs.”

The order was said in a voice completely devoid of any inflection or emotion. It sounded cold. Harry needed to remind himself that he had just agreed to obeying Malfoy's orders. Slowly, he moved his legs apart.

When Malfoy grabbed his balls, he yanked his legs back together. What the hell was Malfoy doing?!

“Slave. Spread. Your. Legs.” Malfoy's voice sounded low and dangerous now, and the order was pronounced in an overly precise fashion.

Harry inched his legs apart again. He was prepared when Malfoy grabbed his balls again, and it felt so terribly invasive how those warm but dry hands took hold of them and put a strap of leather around the folds of skin above the balls. Harry didn't want to look at what Malfoy was doing, so he closed his eyes. His balls were pulled backwards, and the wooden bar came to rest behind Harry's legs, just beneath his arse. Harry gave a jolt as Malfoy stroked over his arse, then the rustling of clothes signaled that Malfoy had stood up again. Harry's balls were pulled towards the bar, that much was clear, but it didn't hurt, it just felt... weird. 

Malfoy stepped around Harry again, who opened his eyes again, just as Malfoy bet over him to re-attach the leash to the collar he still wore around his neck. 

“Come, slave.”

Malfoy stepped towards the door, tugging softly at the leash. Harry had no choice but following him, if he didn't want to be pulled along on the leash, which would be just ridiculous. 

The bar behind his arse moved a little every time Harry moved a leg. Still, Harry didn't quite see what the thing was supposed to do. Crawling over the wooden floor outside the room – Harry wasn't quite sure if it was supposed to be his permanent room or if it was just a temporary placement – was unfamiliar and slow. 

Malfoy didn't seem to notice Harry at all, but he kept a steady, slow pace that Harry had little trouble keeping up with. After some time and a few turns, Harry had mostly payed attention to the floor because of the unfamiliar crawling, they arrived at a set of stairs. Malfoy moved down the first step, but Harry felt really silly crawling, and didn't see the sense in crawling down the stairs as well. 

He moved to get up, but was cut short in the motion. A sharp stab of pain reached through his body from his groin, where the leather strap seemed suddenly intent on ripping off his balls. He gave a sharp yelp, then fell back into the kneeling position, his hands reaching for his groin. The sharp pain of stretched balls ceased immediately, though the aftermath of the previous pain still coursed through Harry's nervous system. 

Malfoy had turned around at the yelp and was eyeing Harry with an indifferent expression when Harry looked up again. He started speaking when he caught Harry's eye.

“As you see, the humbler will punish you for any attempt to stand up through simple physics. If you move your upper body into an upward position, the distance between your arse and balls extends. The leather is only long enough to accommodate the shorter distance, though. So, if you try to stand up, your balls are pulled to the back, as you just experienced. Simple solution: don't try to stand up. You will learn to crawl any distance you need to cover.”

Harry choked back a harsh reply. Malfoy didn't want to hear his complaints, that much was clear. As Malfoy pulled on the leash again, Harry slowly crawled down the stairs. His arse was up in the air, and he felt incredibly humiliated, the aftershocks of that short pain still running around his body. 

Downstairs, the floor was no longer wooden, but marble. It was just as cold as Harry had expected, and if his balls hadn't already been shriveled up from the previous shock, they surely were now, as the cold seeped into his body from his legs and arms. 

Malfoy still kept the steady pace from before, until they arrived at a heavy door that he opened with a wave of his wand. Behind the door, the floor was again laid with wood. 

As Harry looked around after entering, the door shut itself behind him. The room looked pretty bare, it contained barely any furniture, only one chair and a table, and to the side was a glass double door that led into a bathroom that was completely visible from the room. At the sight of the bathroom Harry noticed that he needed to pee, not surprisingly, as he had just woken up a short time ago. 

While Harry contemplated that thought, Malfoy had detached the leash from the collar. 

“This is our training room. Here you will learn all about servicing your Master in any way possible. As it would only complicate things in here, and not be of much use, I will take the humbler off. Until you have learned to stay on hands and knees at all times unless otherwise ordered, you will wear it around the house. Spread your legs.”

Since it would mean for the thing to come off, Harry obeyed without fuss. Malfoy's hands on his genitals again felt terribly wrong and disgusting. But with a few touches the humbler, as Malfoy had called it, was off. 

Harry cleared his throat. Malfoy looked at him, then said “You may speak, slave. In the future, you will ask properly for permission to speak by saying 'May I speak, Master?', and waiting for permission.”

“Whatever. Ehm, I'd just like to go to the toilet.”

“You may do so, slave. Don't forget crawling, as I do not give you permission to walk for this.”

Harry didn't want to find out what Malfoy would do if he disobeyed that order to his face, so he kept to his hands and knees until he was in front of the toilet. Then he stood up to pee. He was grossly aware of the huge double doors behind him that enabled Malfoy to watch him peeing, which Malfoy even did, when Harry turned around after finishing. Hadn't the guy ever heard of privacy? Or was this some more of his weird Maste-slave-stuff?

Just in time remembering to get down on hands and knees again after washing his hands, Harry returned to the main room crawling. 

He looked at Malfoy in askance when he was in front of him. It was pretty annoying always having to look up at the guy from this ridiculous position. 

Malfoy drew the chair to himself and sat down. 

“I will discuss the basic set of rules that will govern our relationship with you now. You are allowed to speak, though I would bid you not to interrupt, as in any polite conversation. 

I am your Master. That means my orders are absolute and must be followed. I don't delight in useless humiliation, so I will only give you orders that you can actually fulfill. I will instruct you in sexual matters, so you can please me and eventually your Owners to complete satisfaction. I don't know any sexual taboos, and you will learn to no longer know any sexual taboos. If you have any medical issues that I should know about, it would be best to talk about them now. Any further questions?”

Harry hadn't even had time to interrupt Malfoy. As he was addressed, he needed another moment to sort his thoughts before answering.

“I don't have any known medical issues, that I know of, anyways. And I don't even want to know about all the sex stuff you get up to. I get that Master ordering slave around, but it seems pretty ridiculous to me. And this crawling sucks, it's uncomfortable and slow. And you see far to little of your surroundings, no way to react to a threat.”

“You do not need to look out for threats, as it is a Master's duty to care for his slave in return for the services provided. The crawling is a part of showing your Master that you respect him and his position as your absolute superior. You are beneath him, therefor you walk beneath him. If there are any threats to be expected, your Master will always have other safeguards in place. Your only danger lies with displeasing your Master. He is the beginning and the end of your world. 

As for sexual experiences – you will have a lot of them, and once we have finished this talk, we will start on that. Have you ever had any experiences with other boys or men?”

Harry turned a little red around the ears at that question. 

“Ah. You have, but nobody was supposed to know about it? You needn't be shy or prudish around me, there's little I haven't heard or seen, and all that you have done I have probably done, and a lot more. And I am your Master, so it's actually considered impolite to have secrets from me.”

Harry's ears reddened even more. He cleared his throat, but didn't see any way out of this without more of Malfoy's stupid comments. 

“I had a few... encounters. In bars and clubs. Muggle. Mostly just casual, a blowjob or jerking each other off...” He trailed away, focusing on the floor.

“Okay. What we will do is a lot different from that, but it's good to know that I won't have to work with someone who is actually completely heterosexual and that you can get aroused around other men as well as accept them getting aroused around you and because of you.

The Master's pleasure always comes before your pleasure. You will often be called to provide services without anyone caring about your pleasure. Nevertheless, only your Master may grant you pleasure – you may not take it yourself, without your Master's expressive permission. No masturbating. No rubbing or whatever. Only if your Master grants you permission to touch yourself may you do so. Your pleasure is at his command, as is every other aspect of your life.”

Harry looked at Draco doubtfully. This whole Master and slave stuff just didn't mix too well with him. 

“Do you have any more questions? Otherwise, we will start the actual training now.”

“Do I need to get permission for everything? Even going to the toilet? And where and when do I get something to eat? I'm a little hungry. And I will be so several times a day.”

“If you are not needed by your Master and left to your own devices, you are always free to go to to the loo. Same with food, it will be provided in your room. In the immediate presence of your Master, you will ask for these things. As for now – you will get something to eat after we have finished our first training session.”

Harry didn't like the idea of asking every time he went to the loo, but he would see if it became unbearable. For now, following Malfoy's orders didn't seem too bad. Better than the alternative, anyways.

So Harry nodded to Malfoy, who stood up from the chair in response. 

“As you already have experience with blowjobs, I needn't break you into those. So, I will introduce you to some basic bondage. And a few first steps in anal sex. Get on the bed.”

Harry was just about to ask 'What bed?' when he saw a bed appear in a corner that had previously been – or rather looked – empty. A glamour that Malfoy had dispersed with a flick of his wand. 

He crawled to and then up on the bed. It was soft, with luxurious silken sheets. Harry turned around to see what Malfoy was doing. The other man stood in front of a dresser and had just taken several leather cuffs out of a drawer. Completely against his actual mood, Harry felt a faint stirring in his groin. He had had fantasies of bondage, though he'd never acted on them. But this was not the way he had wanted to enact these fantasies. Actually, he hadn't really wanted to act on these fantasies at all... 

Malfoy came to the bed with four cuffs and several lengths of rope. He told Harry to lie back on the bed and then put padded leather cuffs around Harry's ankles. They fit tightly but didn't pinch. Then Malfoy proceeded to attach the other set of cuffs to Harry's wrists. Then Malfoy took the first rope and knotted it to the D-ring that was attached to the wristcuff. Harry didn't struggle, because he was caught up in defying his arousal that had heightened with every move Malfoy had made to secure the cuffs. He tried thinking of Blast-ended Screwts, but every touch made him aware of the cuffs and the soft sheets anew. 

Malfoy had by now attached the ropes to every of the four cuffs. He then started to pull Harry's feet apart, at which point Harry finally gave up his attempts to control his arousal, since his cock was already half hard and Malfoy must have seen it by now. Malfoy didn't comment on it however, he just continued to draw Harry's feet apart, an then he knotted the ropes to hooks that were attached to the bedposts. 

Then he moved up to Harry's arms, and when the arms were just as securely fixed and Harry had very little room to move, his cock was completely hard and he was dreadfully ashamed of his body's reaction. Then Malfoy spoke again.

“The bonds are there to help you. Otherwise, I would need to order you to stay in place. Obviously, your body is not too put out by the idea of being bound. In this position, I can access everything on the front of your body.”

Malfoy laid his hand on Harry's chest and moved it slowly down over his belly and onto Harry's hard cock. As it reached its goal, Harry hissed with suppressed pleasure. His body was betraying him. 

Malfoy didn't cease with just touching, he began to stroke Harry's cock in a steady rhythm. When Harry's breath started to come quicker, however, Malfoy stopped and pulled his hand away. Harry glared at him, thoughts about his situation as a slave returning to the back of his mind throught the haze of pleasure. 

“Your pleasure will always take second place to mine, slave.” Malfoy's voice had suddenly turned a lot colder. When Harry looked at him again, Malfoy was standing next to the bed and systematically disrobing. Only a few moments later, he stood there, completely naked. Malfoy's cock was stiff and red, standing proudly from blonde curls. Harry had never seen anyone with blonde pubic hair. 

Then Malfoy climbed on the bed again, then he knelt down on top of Harry's belly and began to stroke himself. Malfoy had an extremely fit body, and it was deeply arousing to watch him jerk himself off. 

After a few minutes, Malfoy came with a loud grunt and coated Harry's chest and face with his sperm. It was a little gross, but Harry didn't mind as much as he had thought. Maybe he was still toot aroused himself to care much for being coated in spunk. 

Malfoy reached for his wand and performed a cleaning charm – on himself, not on Harry. Then he crawled off Harry's belly and chest, and redonned part of his clothes. Harry didn't know what that meant, would Malfoy just leave him like this, now that he was satisfied? E started stirring in his bonds, until Malfoy turned back to him again. 

“Now that you are properly in the mood, we'll start on anal sex.”

Malfoy turned away from the bed again, and walked to the dresser again. Harry craned his neck, a difficult feat in his position, so he could see what Malfoy was doing. Malfoy rummaged around in one of the drawers, another than where the cuffs had come from, and then returned with a rubbery looking object. 

Harry had never had any firsthand experiences with those either, but he knew it was a buttplug. In the other hand Malfoy held a little plastic tube with what Harry presumed to be lubricant. 

Malfoy knelt down between Harry's spread legs. He laid the buttplug down on the bed next to him, then he coated the fingers of his right hand with the lube. Reaching between Harry's legs, he first began spreading the lube freely all around Harry's entrance. He squeezed another dose of lube on his fingers, and with that Harry felt the tip of a finger slowly pressing on his entrance, and slipping into his body. It was a gentle pressure, subtly arousing. The slippery finger soon grew bolder, going in and out of the small hole in a steady rhythm. Then the fingers vanished for a second, and Harry, who had unwittingly closed his eyes to better concentrate on the sensation, opened them again to see Malfoy coating his fingers with even more lube. Then the finger was back – and suddenly the pressure grew a lot more, as the seconds finger suddenly pressed into the hole. Harry jerked back involuntarily, but the pressure of the second finger stayed steady and soon his body got used to it. The heightened pressure made it even more pleasurable, after a time. 

Before he had expected it, a third finger added even more pressure, but this time his body adjusted even faster. Then, the fingers withdrew and didn't return after a few moments. Harry opened his eyes again to see Malfoy coating the buttplug with lube. He swallowed. The buttplug looked a lot bigger than a finger... bigger than even three fingers. 

Malfoy looked up at Harry just as harry began to get nervous. “It's a little bigger at the thickest, but once that's through, it gets smaller again, so it will stay securely inside you. And I know that you can take it.”

Harry swallowed again, then nodded. Malfoy had finished coating the plug, and as it was pressed against Harry's backside, Harry closed his eyes. 

“Relax”, Malfoy told him. Harry tried to, and he felt the plug stretching his hole, slowly but steadily. At one point it hurt a bit, but then the thickest point was through and the rest of the plug sunk into him in a fluid motion. It felt like a steady pressure from the inside, but in a positive way. Then, without further warning, Malfoy suddenly began stroking Harry's cock again. 

Having been aroused for so long, Harry approached his orgasm fast, and suddenly remembered Malfoy's earlier talk about only being allowed to come by his Master.   
“Malfoy... I'm gonna come!” was all he got out before the sperm already shot from his cock. 

Malfoy continued to stroke him until the orgasm had subsided, then he reached for his wand again and performed another cleaning charm on himself – and left the spunk on Harry where it was, as before. 

“That was not the proper way to ask for release, slave.”, Malfoy then said in his cold voice, devoid of emotions. 

“If you want to have your release, you need to ask your Master properly, and in advance. Otherwise, punishment will be necessary. This time, punishment will be minor, as you do not yet know the proper manners. Next time, a breach of rules like this will earn you a severe punishment.”

“And what kind of punishment will this be?” Harry asked as soon as he had regained his breath enough to speak. 

“For now, only ten slaps on your bottom with my bare hand. In the future, punishment may be spanking with a paddle or several days of denied release.”

“No 'going to bed without a meal'?” Harry asked with a mildly sarcastic tone.

Malfoy looked at him with a serious expression. “No. As your Master, I need to care for your health, and regular meals are absolutely necessary. But for your insolence by talking without asking permission, I will add another five slaps.”

Harry wanted to retort another sarcastic remark, but being slapped on the bum, like a little kid who didn't follow a parents' command was already ridiculous enough, he didn't want to add even more slaps to his punishment. 

Malfoy detached the roped from the bedposts, then he removed the cuffs from Harry's wrists and ankles. The buttplug still stayed where it was, and just as Harry was about to ask about it, Malfoy stroked over Harry's bum and said “This stays here for at least another hour, to get you used to it.” he didn't add any more explanation. 

Then he ordered Harry on his hands and knees. Harry obeyed, again not seeing much sense in disobeying. And whatever else Malfoy had planned, somehow all he'd done until now had been more enjoyable than not. 

Malfoy then told him to hold still. Harry did so. 

“You will count the slaps.”, was the next order, just before a frst harsh slap came down on Harry's bum. It burnt, and Harry hadn't expected a slap delivered with a bare hand to be that sharp. He jolted away, but a second later remembered both Malfoy's order to stay still and count. 

“One!”

Just as he had said it, another slap was delivered to his backside. 

“Two!”

The next three slaps came in quick succession, and harry knew not to wait with his counts. His back already felt hot, and after the next five slaps, the pain had taken on a different touch, even more sharp than at the beginning. 

“Eleven! Twelve! Thirteen! Fourteen! Fifteen!” 

And then it was over, and Harry's back felt hot and numb at the same time, the buttplug still in place and sending this weird feeling of inner pressure through him. 

Malfoy stood up and told Harry to take a shower. When Harry returned from the bathroom, a second chair had appeared, and breakfast sat on the table. Just in time remembering to crawl again, Harry arrived at the table at Malfoy's feet, who then motioned Harry to the other seat. His still hot and slightly sore bum didn't quite like being sat on, but Harry kept from fidgeting as best as he could. 

~~~ 

Draco sat at the desk in his room, two weeks into his stay at the Indian Mansion. Harry had been difficult today, but his training was progressing at a satisfying speed. Draco had extended Harry's buttplug wearing time by an hour every day, having arrived at nine hours today. He'd need to go to Harry in half an hour to supervise today's removal, and for two days he had taken a bigger plug. 

He had spent the past three days trying to finally break Harry of his habit of interrupting Draco without asking for permission to speak, and to teach him to call Draco “Master”. Both was a lot more difficult than getting Harry to follow orders in the house or in the training room, to Draco's surprise. 

But Harry was astonishingly receptive to everything they had tried sexually until now. But tomorrow Draco wanted to go further, since Harry's obvious contentment with having something shoved up his arse made Draco want to try a proper fisting in the near future. Preparation for that would still take a few weeks of building up with thicker buttplugs, but tomorrow he would test Harry's self control and his tolerance with more invasive anal play. Tomorrow Draco would introduce his lovely slave Harry to enemas. 

~~~ 

Hary felt a little as if he was betraying his own morals. But then, was it betrayal if he actually felt that it was somewhat right for him?

The whole situation had become bloody confusing. 

Already on that first day of training, he had enjoyed the sexual parts far too much, had talked back far to little, had complied with every one of Malfoy's wishes. It had just felt so good – until the spanking, which he still didn't like, whenever Malfoy used it as punishment. Especially as those paddles hurt far worse than Malfoy's bare hand, as he had discovered a few days ago. 

But even though it was unfair and he shouldn't use it as an argument, an inner voice told him that it was easy to avoid punishment by just complying with all of Malfoy's wishes. And that way, the voice also said, lay a lot more of the undeniable pleasure Malfoy had already given him.

Harry had had the most satisfying orgasms of his whole life in the past week. And that was so wrong, since he was a slave and didn't have control of his life and Malfoy basically raped him!

'It's not rape if you want it – and you want it, badly!', the traitorous voice in his head whispered again. He shouldn't, couldn't want to be a slave and sex toy for Malfoy!

He'd balked at the thought of calling Malfoy “Master” today, and it had earned him the most severe punishment yet. And Malfoy had made weird allusions to having a special plan for tomorrow, and Harry had been eager to know what it was, and he just shouldn't feel like that, looking forward to new ways to be mistreated and exploited was just wrong. 

He heard steps in front of his door, and he recognized them as Malfoy's immediately. It probably was time to remove the buttplug for today. And just how wrong was it for him to want to tell Malfoy that he would love to wear it all night long?

~~~ 

Harry had looked at him with a weird expression as he had come to remove the buttplug yesterday evening, but without further clues, Draco didn't know what to make of it. He had decided to watch Harry more closely, but he still wanted to do the enema today. It was an extremely intense experience, and maybe it would prompt Harry to tell what was bothering him. 

He fetched Harry from his room, his permanent one, which had a similar layout to the training room they used in the cellars. Harry's room was smaller though, and he spent rather little time in it. Several hours every day they spent together in the training room, and since it was unhealthy to be without sunshine for prolonged periods of time, Draco took Harry outside to the gardens every day for at least a short time. Since the whole Mansion and grounds were private property and all the members of the household were informed about Harry and Draco, nobody took offense at Harry's nakedness.

Harry waited for Draco on hands and knees as he entered. He had been awake and ready like this every morning, so the sleeping in on his first day probably was due to either jetlag or the ritual. Draco attached the leash to the collar, then he led Harry to the training room. Just as the previous evening, Harry seemed to have something on his mind, something grave, but he tried to hide it.

Through is job as a training Master Draco hat learned to read subtle signs in his slaves, because every so often, an overeager slave would try to go further than he actually was capable, and Draco needed to know in advance. Harry was not like that, but something was bothering him. Draco didn't think he would get an answer out of Harry if he asked, so he had no choice but to continue watching. 

When they had arrived at the training room, Draco released the leash and sat down on the chair. 

“Today, as I already hinted, we will do something different. Since it will take up a lot of time in which you will not be able to service me, I want a blowjob right now. You may not use your hands.”

This was really tricky assignment for a slave confronted with wizarding robes, but Draco had made it easier by not wearing any underwear. The easiest way in this situation was for the slave to just put his head under the robes and suck his Master from underneath. Harry looked at him with wide eyes for a second, then he set to his task and slipped his head beneath Draco's robes. 

Draco was aroused, but not fully hard, and once Harry had discovered that the assignment was a little easier than presumed, he set eagerly to his task. Harry's blowjobs were fine, Draco wasn't dissatisfied, but he had known slaves with more finesse in that department. His choice wasn't due to Harry's skill, but because it was one of the fastest ways to get his morning erection away before setting to the enema. Harry would get his own release later today, if he still was in the mood after the enema. 

After several minutes of dedicated sucking and licking, Draco came with a moan and spilled his seed into Harry's mouth. One thing that Harry hadn't needed to be training in was swallowing after a blowjob, he had done it from the beginning, so Draco also stayed comfortably clean as well. 

When Harry had reappeared from under Draco's robes, Draco praised Harry, then he stood up and told Harry to walk with him to the bathroom. 

He had set up everything he needed already. There was a low bench for Harry to lie down on, and several containers of charm-warmed water for at least two rounds. 

“I have prepared everything for an enema today. It will clean your bowels, and test your self control, since it is difficult to hold the enema long enough without spilling anything. A full enema will feel uncomfortable, but I will ease you through the pain, and if you manage to control ther body log enough, I will be immensely proud of you.”

Harry looked at Draco with that weird look in his eyes again, but again didn't say anything. 

“Lie down on the bench, your knees drawn up, but spread, so your belly is not squeezed. Belly down, like that.”

Harry settled into the ordered position, his head resting on his arms. Draco sat down on a chair next to him, and prepared the equipment. He let the air out of the nozzle, then slathered it in lubricant before gently inserting it in Harry's rectum. 

He opened the nozzle, then gently lifted the water container so the water would begin to flow. His other hand he laid on Harry's belly to feel the distention that came with the water spreading around his intestines. 

Harry groaned as the first litre had just finished it's way into his body. Draco stopped the flow of the water and laid the container down next to him. Then he began slowly and gently massaging Harr'ys back and belly. 

~~~ 

Harry could vaguely remember something about enema's from his early school days when he still live with the Dursleys, but he guessed that this way of doing it was a little different from what his Muggle relatives would have done. 

He felt the water building up a slow pressure inside his body, his belly becoming heavier. As the pressure became worse, he grunted, and noticed how Malfoy set aside the container. Then Malfoy began to massage him – very gently. The pressure was still there, and sometimes sharp pains shot through his abdomen, like sharp contractions. His breathing got heavier as he began fighting the urge to press it all out again. But the way Malfoy's hands danced over his back and belly, it got better. 

“Malfoy. I think I need to let go. Soon.”

Harry felt the pressure building up ever more, and he really wanted to go to the toilet. 

Malfoy stopped his ministrations and said, with an unfamiliar warmth in his voice: “Go to the toilet, slowly. Sit down on it, but wait for my command to let go.”

Harry wobbled more than walked over to the toiled, his arsecheeks clamped shut tightly. Once he sat down, he needed to clamp even stronger, because his body really wanted to let go. And his subconscious also said that it was all right now, since he sat on the toilet. But Malfoy had not yet given the command.

~~~ 

Draco saw Harry's face scrunched up in concentration, completely focused on holding back – on obeying his Master's orders not to let go until commanded. It looked wonderful. 

“You can let go now.”

Harry's face immediately changed to a relaxed expression, as his body finally was allowed to do what it wanted – release the pressure that had been built up inside. The smell of feces wafted through the room, but Draco knew an air cleansing charm that took care of such odours with the flick of a wand. 

But just as he turned back to watching Harry, he saw the weird thing in his eyes again. It seemed as if Harry was deeply troubled and conflicted. But why?

~~~ 

Harry hated himself in the moment he obeyed Malfoy's command. Why, why did he obey these commands? Malfoy didn't actually force him! Why was he so eager to please someone who kept him as a slave? He could just have let go before now, defied Malfoy at least this tiny bit, but instead, he had acted like a puppet, a real slave, waiting for his Master's orders, controlling his bodily functions for him! 

And he had nobody to blame but himself. Why was it like that? Why did something inside him want to obey Malfoy's orders? This whole slavery thing was wrong! Harry knew it to be wrong, then why, why did some part of him still want to obey every one of Malfoy's orders?

~~~ 

When Harry had emptied his bowels and cleaned up again, Draco let him lie down in the same position as before for the next round. Harry's face was still conflicted, but he obeyed Draco's orders without a word. 

Draco prepared the second enema as precisely as the first, but this time he didn't stop at Harry's first whimper, and only ended the flow of the water after about two liters. Harry was giving soft whimpers, indicating that the cramps were worse than the first round. Draco again massaged him gently, and when Harry stirred, he sent him to the toilet even before he had to ask. 

When he gave permission to et go, something entirely unexpected happened. Harry, just as he let go, burst into tears. 

~~~ 

Harry just couldn't take it anymore. The conflicting emotions, the pains and Malfoy's soft touches, the knowledge that it was all so wrong, just added up and without him realizing it, he was suddenly in tears, sitting on this toilet, his bowels spilling a mixture of water and feces, and him crying like a baby. 

And totally unexpected, Malfoy was suddenly next to him, cradling him in his arms, stroking his hair and his back, whispering soothing words in his ear. He helped Harry clean up, and then lead him to the bed in the other room, where he continued to hold Harry as se sobbed into Malfoy's robes. 

~~~ 

He ahdn't expected Harry to have a breakdown like this. And especially not over an enema. And he didn't think this was a regular case of a sub flying too high and then crashing rudely to the ground, this must have had a different source. He just had to find out what exactly it was. 

After some time, it might have been half an hour, Harry had finally calmed down enough to stop sobbing. Draco began to softly prod what was wrong, and then, instead of slowly admitting what the problem was, it broke out of Harry like a volcano. 

“This is all so wrong! Slavery is wrong, ordering other people around against their will is wrong! And I know it's wrong! And yet, I still obey every damn order! I stop my orgasm, I ask for permission to go to the toilet, and I enjoy obeying these orders! I enjoy being your sextoy! I enjoy the way you touch me, they way you rip my orgasm from me at your will, the way you shape my whole life with your orders! And it's wrong!”

Draco had been shoved aside when Harry began his shouted tirade. He kept his distance, since he didn't think Harry would tolerate him in his personal space right now. He made sure his voice would be steady, and began a speech he hadn't needed in a long time.

“Your situation is different from most I have to deal with, since you were basically coerced into this slave ritual without much of a real choice. But normally, the slaves I train give up their freedom voluntarily. 

They hand their life to their Master, and let go of the pressures of their past that way. All of them have learned that enslaving people is wrong, and still they give up their right to choose for themselves and hand it over to their Master. 

Many of them face the conflict you are encountering now long before they actually enter into slavery. They discover that they like to be dominated far earlier. 

And if you really feel comfortable in my orders, then that is what you feel, and what you feel is always right for yourself. Maybe not for others, and that is why enslaving people against their will is wrong. But if you enjoy this, and chose this, it is the right thing for you, and nobody has the right to still say that it is wrong.”

Harry stared at Draco with disbelief in his eyes.

“But I didn't choose this! As you said, I was coerced! It was either giving my life over to slavery or plunging Britain in a war! This whole thing is wrong!”

“Harry. Listen to me. The situation was wrong, maybe it even still is wrong. But you just told me that you enjoyed what we were doing. The slave bond cannot force you to feel a certain way, and neither can I. The feelings are your own, and even though they might never have surfaced without this situation, they are real. And real feelings are not wrong. 

Do you believe that your feelings are real?”

Harry looked at Draco, still with this deep conflict in his eyes. 

“Yes. Yes, I know these feelings are real. But they are wrong!”

Draco moved closer to Harry and forced the other man to look him in the eye. 

“Harry. If your feelings are real, they are right for you. Nobody, nobody in the whole world has the right to say that your feelings are wrong. Your feelings belong to you, and that way, your feelings are right for you! Will you believe me?”

Harry kept silent, but Draco had the feeling that his words had finally reached the place in Harry's mind where they needed to go before any success could be achieved.

“So... you say that my feelings are right for me, even if slavery is still wrong? That I can want to be your slave, even if slavery is wrong?”

“Yes, Harry. Things that are forced upon someone n be wrong, but if they are freely chosen, they can be right. If you choose that you really want to be my slave, then this is right for you and me. And I would be deeply honoured if you chose to be my slave of your free will.”

Harry thought about that in silence for a few more minutes, then he nodded.

“Yes. I choose this. I want to be your slave, Draco Malfoy. Please, be my Master.”


End file.
